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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985895">Holmes Boys Prompts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx'>supersoakerx</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Enola Holmes (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, femme!reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:28:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28985895</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mini-stories (generally &lt;1k words) I've written on my blog about Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) and his older brother, Mycroft Holmes (Sam Claflin). See chapter notes for tags.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Reader, Mycroft Holmes/You, Sherlock Holmes/Reader, Sherlock Holmes/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Prompt</b>: 94. “You have wronged me so bitterly…” and H: “Hell is already here, brother, and I’m the devil.” – adapted a teensy bit<br/><b>Pairing</b>: Sherlock Holmes x femme!Reader and Mycroft Holmes x femme!Reader<br/><b>Warnings</b>: An argument over a woman. It’s all angst. It’s only angst. And Mycroft Holmes is a dick.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock slammed his fist on Mycroft’s mahogany desk. “What meaning could you possibly have for this, Mycroft?” he spat out, his furrowed brow and blazing eyes barely containing his wrath.</p><p>Mycroft lowered his newspaper slowly, and cocked his head to the side as he pulled his pipe from between his lips. He glanced his brother up and down, then sighed, folded today’s paper, and set it neatly on his desk. “Would you care to calm yourself, brother mine, and perhaps attempt to address me again?”</p><p>The younger Holmes’ chest rose and fell with deep, furious breaths.</p><p>“This is hardly civilised, Sherlock,” sneered Mycroft. “Storming through my place of work in such an,” he grimaced, “<em>emotional</em> state—"</p><p><b>“You,”</b> Sherlock bent forward suddenly and shoved an accusatory finger in his brother’s face,<b> “have wronged me so bitterly…”</b></p><p>Mycroft’s chair creaked as he recoiled from the sentiment, and his brows pinched in disgust. “Good God, man. Pull yourself together.” The elder Holmes flicked his eyes toward the door of his office. “She is only a woman, after all—and one, I might add—”</p><p>Sherlock tilted his head and sucked his cheeks between his teeth, daring his brother to continue.</p><p>“—could do with a touch more…” Mycroft brought his pipe to his mouth, “breaking in.”</p><p>Sherlock lunged for his brother and smacked his other palm to the wood. “How utterly dare you. You knave,” he hissed, “the state of her. She looks as if you put her through Hell and, and,” he pounded the desk with his fist once more, “left her there!”</p><p>“Listen to you!” Mycroft scoffed. “Hell and bitter wrongdoing—I assure you,” he stood abruptly from his chair, “I did not touch her in a way she did not beg me for.”</p><p>Sherlock’s upper lip curled in a snarl.</p><p>“By George. What’s gotten into you, brother?” Mycroft paused, then, a sardonic grin stretching unkindly over his features. “Or perhaps the question is rather,” he dropped his voice, “what have you gotten—<em>yourself—</em>into?” His hazel eyes glinted with malicious humour.</p><p>Sherlock breathed audibly through his nose. “You are a most cruel villain, brother.” He turned and strode towards the door.</p><p>“Oh, villainy! Oh, vast vile Hell!” called Mycroft, with an air of the dramatic. “What am I to take this as, Sherlock, your audition for the theatre?”</p><p>Sherlock spun on his heel and pointed at his brother from the doorway. “I should think it wise for you, brother, to reconsider any further visits to 221A Baker Street.”</p><p>Mycroft smirked, and after a beat he leant two hands on his desk and very lowly said, “No. I don’t think it in our little wildling to contrive such a wish.” When Sherlock, incensed, drew in a sharp breath, Mycroft continued on. “Remember, since you are so concerned with the afterlife, that <b>Hell is already here, little brother—and for my part, I’m the devil.”</b></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Come say hi and/or request a prompt at: <a href="https://ladyfloriographist.tumblr.com/">https://ladyfloriographist.tumblr.com/</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Mycroft Holmes x Wife!Reader</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Prompt</b>: G: “Going somewhere?” “Nowhere that concerns you.”<br/><b>Pairing</b>: Claflin!Mycroft Holmes x Wife!Reader<br/><b>Warnings</b>: Victorian sexism/gender roles, and possessive hubby but we stan that big meanie Mycroft</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You pinned your hat into your hair as you raced down the stairs, eager to be on your way to your weekly excursion, and back again, before your husband returned home.</p><p>You hummed a song as you buttoned your coat, gleefully unaware of the audience that appraised you from behind, watching as you made yourself ready to leave.</p><p>You slipped on your gloves, grabbed your embroidered hand bag and umbrella, and—</p><p>“At this hour, my love?”</p><p>You stopped—caught, like a hare in hunting season, by the cold edge of his voice. Slowly you turned and found Mycroft sat by the fire, folding his book closed in his lap and gazing at you with hard eyes.</p><p>Suddenly extraordinarily conscious of your heartbeat, you realise you hadn’t heard him come in, and what’s more, he hadn’t come to find you and announce his arrival home, either. You swallowed, and tried to sound more cheerful than startled. “You’re home, my darling.”</p><p>It didn’t quite work.</p><p>“Please don’t quote the obvious to me, my dear,” he dismissed you with a sigh as he stood from his armchair, “we both know you’re far cleverer than that.”</p><p>You bristled, your spine stiffening as your husband approached you, his mouth set in a hard line.</p><p>He gestured to your hand bag. <b>“Going somewhere?”</b> he asked with a joyless smile and a sarcastically quirked brow. “You see?” He stopped before you, clicking his heels on the floorboards officiously. “It doesn’t particularly sound all that intelligent, does it?”</p><p>You sniffed, ignoring his jab. <b>“Nowhere that concerns you.”</b> You brushed at your dresscoat as if to smooth it, with a hint of nervousness that you quashed quickly, and Mycroft’s gaze floated down your figure.</p><p>You lifted your chin and looked point blank into his hazel orbs. “You needn’t bother yourself with my comings and goings, dear love of mine,” you refuted further, matching him for chilling lack of intimacy in your tone. Edith expected you at the gym, but there was no possible way to let her know you’d been detained. And those girls depend on you.</p><p>Mycroft clenched his jaw and breathed deeply. “Much to my chagrin, heart of mine own,” he crowded you backwards against the console table, “we disagree on a <em>great</em> many things—but <em>that</em>,” he pointed a finger in your face, “is <em>not</em> one of them.”</p><p>His eyes were bloodshot with boiling anger and his tone was cutting, and his proximity quickened your breath. “My love—”</p><p>“Damn it, woman!” He struck the narrow wooden table you leant against and the lead lamp rattled. “<em>You</em> are my <em>wife</em>!”</p><p>On instinct you pushed forward into his face, and rose your voice to match his. “And <em>you</em> are my <em>husband</em>, Mycroft!”</p><p>He lunged for you and wrapped his hand around your pulsing throat, knocking the back of your head into the beadboard to pin you there. The pair of you panted hard into each other’s faces, inhaling and exhaling the same hot air.</p><p>Mycroft huffed, “Why can’t you just be a good girl for me, dearest?”</p><p>You panted, “Because you don’t like that anywhere near as much as this, darling.”</p><p>He licked at his lips and grazed them along yours, threatening to kiss you. He was already stiffening from your teasing—becoming long and thick and ready for you—and your hot breath on his face and pounding pulse beneath his fingers made him throb.</p><p>Quick and dark he growled onto your lips. “Do not think for one instant that I don’t know where you are or what you are doing at any given moment.” He squeezed your throat and pressed his mouth to your ear. “Not one second of your day escapes my notice, dear wife.”</p><p>“A highly inappropriate use of the government’s resources,” you muttered, reaching down his slacks to seek out his swelling need. Your palm connected with the bulge in his trousers and Mycroft gasped. You murmured into his mouth, “You knew where I was headed?”</p><p>“Yes,” he sighed.</p><p>“You didn’t let on.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You pitched an argument to stop me.”</p><p>“I pitched an argument to seduce you,” Mycroft said, and crushed his lips to yours in a searing kiss.</p><p>Perhaps, just this once, Edith would understand.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Come say hi and/or request a prompt at: <a href="https://ladyfloriographist.tumblr.com/">https://ladyfloriographist.tumblr.com/</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Mycroft Holmes x Mistress!Reader</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Prompt</b>: 5. “Sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”<br/><b>Pairing</b>: Claflin!Myroft Holmes x femme!Mistress!Reader<br/><b>Warnings</b>: infidelity, a quickie in the kitchen, kind of angsty/feelingsy at the end</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He hadn’t even bothered to undress you this time—or himself. He’d stormed in through the more discrete side-gate, found you steeping a pot of tea, and had barely even removed his hat before he’d latched his mouth to your neck.</p><p>“Well,” you sighed as he kissed and bit your sensitive skin, “good afternoon to you, Mister Holmes.”</p><p>He pushed you against the kitchen counter and worked to undo his trousers. “Hush, pearl. Less talking.” He pulled up your skirts, pleased to find you free of both crinoline and corset. “I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>“What do you need?” you murmured, letting your body be buffeted by his rough handling. You put his hat to the side and pulled his neck tie loose.</p><p>“Kiss me,” he breathed into your mouth, and dipped his hand into your drawers. Mycroft pressed his mouth to yours with urgency, and very little care, as he stroked your folds. He coaxed your slick from your opening and with the pads of two fingers, rubbed at your clit with it, attempting to quicken the pace of your arousal. He needed you ready, and now.</p><p>You returned his desperate kisses with fervour, and rocked your clit against his digits. When he dipped the full length of two fingers into your cunt, you broke the kiss moaned onto his lips.</p><p>He shifted you up and onto the countertop, and spread your legs apart. You held what you could of your petticoats and dress, and Mycroft pressed the head of his prick to your slick opening until your flesh yielded for him.</p><p>“God!” Mycroft sheathed himself into your cunt with a strangled gasp. He buried his nose into your neck and bucked into your hot, welcoming wetness.</p><p>You clung to his shoulders, keeping yourself upright as he ploughed you with rough and reckless thrusts. His arms wrapped around your sides and his hands splayed out over your back as he grunted and sighed into the curve of your neck.</p><p>“Yes. <em>Yes</em>,” he chanted through clenched teeth when you wrapped your legs around his hips and moaned his name, the action bringing his release that much closer.</p><p>You were so wet and hot on the inside, he drove his spearing cock as far inside you as he was physically capable, and when you clenched around his prick he shattered.</p><p>With a hoarse cry Mycroft spilled inside your cunt, his spurting cock pulsing against the silky walls of your pussy. It had been some time since he had taken you so quickly, so unforgivingly, and his world spun for a moment as he fought to catch his breath.</p><p>Recovered, he pulled from your body and began to dress himself. “I cannot stay.”</p><p>You slipped off the benchtop, letting your skirts fall down around your legs again. You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to ignore the uncomfortable stickiness at the juncture of your thighs. “<b>Sometimes I wonder if you even like me</b>,” you said.</p><p>Mycroft scoffed. He offered no reply.</p><p>He was being cold. Cruel. “<b>It sure feels like you hate me sometimes</b>.”</p><p>He huffed as he pulled on his gloves. “I am not so interested in speaking of loving and hating with the likes of you, pearl.”</p><p>You flinched at his quick and seemingly easy dismissal. “I didn’t say ‘love’, and…” your voice failed you for a moment. You realised what he’d said. “What do you mean ‘with the likes of me’, Mycroft?”</p><p>He bristled at the familiarity, and if he were capable of shame and humility, at the misspoken words also. After a long pause he finally said, “You are my escape,” while looking down as he buttoned his coat.</p><p>You reached for his hand, but he jerked away from you and strode with confident steps for the door that led to the side-gate.</p><p>“Do not ask of me more than I can give,” he said, with one foot out the door. “Please, pearl. Do not do it,” he murmured with a quiet voice, and left.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Come say hi and/or request a prompt at: <a href="https://ladyfloriographist.tumblr.com/">https://ladyfloriographist.tumblr.com/</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sherlock Holmes x Governess!Reader</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>Prompt</b>: I just had a go because I felt a little bleh and needed a pick-me-up today x<br/><b>Pairing</b>: Sherlock Holmes x femme!Governess!Reader (LOVE! that trope)<br/><b>Warnings</b>: smooches, post-Enola Holmes, very short, probably shouldn’t even be posting it hah</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Mycroft’s attempts to sequester Enola in Miss Harrison’s finishing school proved devastatingly unsuccessful, the younger Mister Holmes decided an in-situ governess would be better appointed to continue Enola’s education and transition the girl into adult life. Sherlock, assuming guardianship over his sister, explained to Enola that she would be free to come and go from Ferndell Hall as she pleased, so long as her studies continued apace and she did not neglect the cultivation of her intellect.</p><p>Her other pursuits could be of her own choosing, and Sherlock would visit Ferndell Hall on the third weekend of every month.</p><p>Mycroft would assess his schedule and try to make it.</p><p>Today, and alone, Sherlock checked his pocket-watch as the two-horse carriage rumbled towards Ferndell Hall. The magnificent stone structure came into view as the carriage crested the hill, and Sherlock saw that the lilac wisteria had grown handsomely, now stretching up and around the entryway.</p><p>Unbidden, yet not entirely unwanted, memories of <em>that night</em> swirled and surfaced in his mind. He recalled how the soft, dainty flowers—the plant in the early stages of bloom under the moonlight—had caught in your hair as he’d rushed you up against the cold, coarse stone wall.</p><p>How he’d pressed you against the purpling petals and thin, dangling branches with the force of his hungry kisses.</p><p>Your breath had misted in the chill night air as you protested and tried to convince him of the impropriety of his actions. ‘You shouldn’t,’ you’d breathed onto his lips. ‘We can’t,’ you’d said, even as you leant into the warmth of his hand where it rested against your cheek.</p><p>The carriage trundled to a stop, and Sherlock glanced at the house, squinting slightly in the glare. It had been one month since he’d felt the urgent press of your hot lips on his, tasting the nip of Madeira wine that lingered on your palette. As the days passed he longed to feel your body against his once more, thrumming and beating with anxious, delighted nerves as he kissed your mouth open to lick and suck your tongue.</p><p>Sherlock cleared his throat and pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes, dismissing his recollections and his wants in equal measure. He slid his palm over his brow to collect himself.</p><p>If he could survive this weekend without going truly mad, he’s sure he’d give thanks to a God he hitherto had no need to believe in.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Come say hi and/or request a prompt at: <a href="https://ladyfloriographist.tumblr.com/">https://ladyfloriographist.tumblr.com/</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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